


What The Frick

by AlexKingOfTheDamned



Category: L4D, Left 4 Dead
Genre: M/M, PWP, Secret Relationship, public flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:44:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/AlexKingOfTheDamned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francis whisks Nick away during a party for Ellis and Zoey, and gives him the ride of his life</p>
            </blockquote>





	What The Frick

He didn’t really want to.

Honestly, he didn’t really care.

He hated weddings.

_And_ he hated parties.

 

Francis walked up to the high-rise apartment that was lived in by one of the survivors he’d made it to New Orleans with, and her stupid-ass hick boyfriend. It didn’t really surprise him that they were already getting married even though they’d only been together for a little over a year.

 

Just about the same time he’d been with…

Well… not that he’d call it _being with_.

 

The way that dumb kid Ellis always floated around on cartoon hearts behind Zoey made it pretty obvious that they were going to end up getting married. Not to mention the way she adored and snuggled him every fucking chance she got – even in public. They fed each other at restaurants, they finished each other’s goddamn sentences. They had dumbass pet names for each other, and Ellis even ditched his precious hat for her in favor for a brand new one when she told him it was smelly.

 

Francis’ initial reaction when he was told that he was invited to their engagement party was a strong desire to stick his head in a toilet and flush. He would rather sit at home and watch Jersey Shore re-runs than go to some stupid party full of stupid happy people giving stupid congratulations to the stupid happy couple.

 

He hated couples like that. So fucking happy all the fucking time. Made him sick.

 

But if he refused, Zoey would have gone to his place and dragged him over by his ear. She had a way with demanding that he stay in touch with her, after “everything they’d been through together.”

So there he was, standing in an elevator with goddamn lobby music wafting around him, his leather coat wrapped around his body in the cold air, a scowl so deeply set on his face it was a wonder it didn’t just combust with bitterness.

If there was anything more annoying than Ellis in all of the known and unknown universe, Nick had yet to experience it. It boggled his mind how any one person could be so singularly irritating in their peppiness and cheerful attitude, but the damn hick pulled it off and then some, and somehow he was still forced into contact with the little fuck. Turned out that even in as big of a city as New Orleans, it was hard to lose track of people you'd lived and nearly died with for a couple months, no matter how hard you tried, so he'd more or less learned to deal with the fact that he was stuck every once in a while with Coach, Rochelle and unfortunately, happy ending fucking little Ellis. 

 

But this, this was a whole new level of cruel and unusual perkiness. 

 

Ever since the mechanic had found the 'love of his life' again after reaching the relative safety of the city, he'd been so completely head over heels that you could practically see the little hearts in his eyes whenever he was with her, which was pretty much all. the fucking. time. And now they were tying the knot, which could only mean there'd be even _more_  lovey-dovey shit to deal with, and soon enough they'd have a zillion annoying little kids running around, and... Damn, it made him shudder with horror just to think about it.

 

But as it was, this was just the engagement party; the first of many steps down into the abyss of mushy bliss that everyone who knew them would have to stand by and watch. And so now he was stuck sitting in a corner trying to avoid any cheerful conversation, glancing around the room with a growing urge to jump out the nearest window rather than join in the festivities.

Fuck parties. 

 

Stepping through the front door and greeted with a kiss to the cheek from Zoey and a tight handshake from Ellis – who seemed to think he was good friends with the biker – Francis grumbled an obligatory “congrats” at them before looking for alcohol.

 

He didn’t plan on staying long. He didn’t know most of these people anyway. He saw Louis talking to some short black chick with hoop earrings the size of apples and gave him a little nod of recognition. He sighed a little, thinking about how fucking happy Bill would have been to see his surrogate daughter getting married to such a fine, strapping lad.

Not only had Zoey and the old man had a good relationship, but he’d become pretty damn close to the old codger as well.

He was startled out of his miserable thoughts, however, when he laid eyes on a familiar flash of white.

 

It was Nick, sitting off in a corner by himself, wearing a brand new white suit and dark green shirt that made his pale green eyes stand out. He was nursing a tall, half-empty glass of pale alcohol, watching the bubbles rise with a disdainful expression.

He instantly felt a rush of blood to the place between his legs at the sight of him.

 

Their relationship had been a secret for a long time, almost eight months. They met up due to Ellis and Zoey meeting each other again just a few days after the hick and his group and in that same night had the most drunken sex either of them had ever experienced.

Since then, their little liaisons continued, always in private, always in secret.

 

It was only recently that the others found out. All seven of them had been hanging out at a bar halfway drunk for Halloween, talking and generally having a good time (although Nick nor Francis would have admitted to that) when two young, beautiful women dressed as what looked to be fairies made their way over to Francis in order to flirt with him, the handsome, tall man dressed as a 1950’s greaser. He’d flirted back in order to rouse the younger man’s jealousy and possibly have sex a little rougher than usual that night.

 

The last thing he’d expected was a half-drunk Nick, clad in a rather sexy version of a police uniform, climbing into his lap and forcing a rather deep and intruding kiss upon him.

 

Since then they had mixed feelings about the incident, but were generally more pleased with not having to sneak around anymore. 

However, in the past few weeks, seeing as they didn’t live together, they’d had a hard time seeing each other. Nick had a major poker tournament and was uptown for almost three and a half weeks playing and winning and winning and playing. They’d talked over the phone a grand total of once before they realized that it was just fucking strange and decided not to try again. Once, Nick had sent him a rather revealing picture of himself just stepping out of the shower via cellphone, which kept Francis going for several days; fed by hand alone.

 

Seeing him sitting in the corner however, finally, finally roused the opportunity that they’d get to _see_ each other again.

Crossing the room boldly, his mood already significantly increased, he slammed his boot down on the seat of the chair in the space between Nick’s spread legs.

 

“They actually made you come too? I’m sorry, man.” He snorted gruffly.

 

Francis stood out in a crowd, no doubt about it. Not only was he just plain huge, but the tattoos and leather always made it easy to spot the biker from across a room. 

Therefore, he'd been noticed several seconds before his approach, and it had been rather difficult for Nick to find something else to look at to avoid staring. He was suddenly a very firm believer in that cheesy phrase: "absence makes the heart grow fonder" or some shit like that, only he wasn't sure it was the heart that was really involved here...

 

"I'm more impressed that they got you here, chuckles. Lose a bet?" The gambler's green eyes flashed up calmly and he smirked. "They've got booze, but if the happy couple get too mushy, I may have to ask you to kill me."

 

“Funny, I was about to say the same damn thing.” Francis sneered, looking around to see if the alcohol Nick had in hand had come from anywhere nearby. “I hate parties, but I hate getting beat up by a girl even more. So I came. Not staying long.”

 

He couldn’t help but notice the way the conman flinched ever so slightly at the words “I came.”

 "Zoey does seem like the type who'd kick your ass if you skipped this shit." Nick agreed, glancing over at the lady in question before reading Francis' searching expression and nodding towards one of the tables as a silent direction. "I just got pestered into it. You wouldn't _believe_  how that damn kid can whine... But get drunk enough and it shouldn't be too bad, at least for now."

 

Francis soon made his way back to the younger man with a drink in tow, already having downed two right at the table, ignoring the judgmental looks he got. He pulled up a chair next to the gambler and crossed one foot up over his knee with a groan.

 

“How long do we have to stay here for it to be considered polite?” he muttered, watching as people mulled around talking and grinning at the happy couple, who never seemed to stop pawing at each other.

Snorting, Francis gulped down half of his drink somewhat noisily, adam’s apple bobbing as he waited for the effects of the alcohol to begin erasing his misery over the situation.

 

Nick sighed and frowned thoughtfully for a moment, shaking his head a little. "I dunno, for this kind of party...? Depends on if you can come up with a good excuse, but I don't think they'll let us go so easily. This is important to them and shit." he pointed out glumly, watching Ellis talk happily to Coach.

 

“We could _sneak_ out.” Francis offered, his hand suddenly coming to rest on Nick’s knee.

 

Heat instantly shot through his body at the simple contact. Weeks without touching the younger man had apparently made him receptive to his body, and even just the touch of his hand on the gambler’s knees was enough to start a fire brewing.

 

They were normally pretty active, sexually. They didn’t really live together, but Nick spent enough time at Francis’ place that they might as well be living together. And in all the time they were home, they fucked around enough to round it out to an even twice every other day. They’d christened just about every surface in the biker’s apartment, from the footboard of the bed to the bathroom wall, to the kitchen counter to the coffee table. Everything was imprinted upon, save for the goddamn toilet seat.

 

So three weeks without so much as a handshake nearly sent the biker dragging his younger lover to their host’s bathroom for a quickie.

 

Green eyes flickered down to the hand on his knee, both surprised and strangely aroused by the simplest touch. He hadn't thought the absence had made _that_  big of an impact on either of them until they were both back together, but now it was kind of hard to avoid the urge to find someplace to fuck, making his common sense scramble for a moment. 

 

Finally though the gambler broke out of the stupor and grimaced, looking up at the crowd again. "Do you wanna deal with the risk of getting caught? You know how _dead_  we'd both be, right?" Nick sighed and shook his head. "We might as well just wait... I mean, we can probably get away with leaving as soon as Ellis and Zoey say a few words to the group about how happy they are and all that... I just don’t think it’d be worth it…" he trailed off, sort of reluctant to follow his own advice.

 

“Are you _sure_ it wouldn’t be worth it?”

 

Francis’ words took a whole new tone when his palm began to slide up the gambler’s thigh. Just a few inches, nothing so obvious that it would catch the attention of anyone else in the room. Just far enough that Francis could enjoy the sudden rush of pink tint to the younger’s cheeks.

 

Nick's eyes flashed hungrily, but he still managed to glance up at the biker with nothing but annoyance within a second or two. "Hm, a quickie versus not dying a painful death... That's a tough one." He remarked sarcastically.

Francis snorted, frustrated, but removed his hand from the gambler’s thigh. He would have crossed his arms and pouted – as it was in his nature to do – but he was still holding a drink.

 

“Aren’t you gonna go congratulate the stupid kid?” he said after a long, tense moment, clearing his throat and trying not to think about the firmness of the younger man’s thigh beneath his palm.

The gambler scoffed, rolling his eyes at Francis' grumpy reaction but choosing not to comment on it. "No way. I'd get sucked into some stupid conversation about the wedding and would have to listen to them go on and on forever with no hope of escape." he replied coolly, leaning back a little in his chair. "Besides, the sooner they're done with these chats, the sooner we can get on with this whole stupid thing."

 

“They could probably talk all night.” Francis groaned. “Wouldn’t put it past them to forget to make a stupid speech entirely. I hate toasts.” He slumped down further in his chair, tossing back the rest of his drink and putting the glass down on the ground so he could cross his arms. “This isn’t even _strong_ alcohol. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through this.”

It was difficult, but make it through they did. 

 

Every tick of the clock seemed to take forever, and the watchful eyes of their companions never seemed to lapse, reminding them that they could not escape their social obligations. After a few tense minutes of simply sitting there in the corner, they were officially noticed by the others and were dragged into painfully cheerful conversation. And so the hell began. 

 

Francis' method of coping wasn't really an issue the first couple times; as long as it wasn't too obvious, it was fine. But as time went on, the incessant stealthy groping became difficult to deal with around other people, especially since both minds were drifting more and more towards what they wanted as soon as they could ditch the party. Neither one could look the other in the eye without a flash of heat and momentary desire to throw caution to the wind and go fuck somewhere. Every glance or slight physical contact made things worse, to the point where they both felt like mindless, sex-crazed zombies.

 

This stupid toast thing couldn't come soon enough. 

 

When finally the happy stupid couple seemed to remember that they were supposed to say something, both Francis and Nick’s bodies tensed as if ready to flee.

 

“Thank you all for coming!” Zoey started, getting a few whoops and declarations of ‘I love you’ from the people in the room.

 

The rest was mostly drowned out by the duo. Francis was standing right behind the younger man, his massive body obscuring the fact that his hand had completely enveloped one of Nick’s rather squeezable ass cheeks.

 

Nick scowled at Ellis and Zoey impatiently, not listening to a word they said but watching them continue to talk. The sooner they stopped, the sooner they could leave, and the sooner they could leave, well...it kind of went without saying what would happen at that point. It was more a question of how far they would get before cracking than anything else, and he really wanted to get to the answer rather than stand here and be talked at. 

 

And Francis wasn't really making it any easier. 

 

The biker in question was currently kneading Nick’s ass like a ball of dough. He never got tired of how goddamn plush it was, or how the gambler’s ears would light up red when he was touched like this in public.

 

All eyes on the happy giggling couple, he grew a little bolder and slid  his fingers down, harder through the fabric, grinding against the gambler’s pucker right through the thin fabric of his trousers. It became quite clear to the biker that he wasn’t wearing any sort of underwear, which just made the blood flow south all the more insistent.

 

Almost feeling his knees buckle, he settled on leaning back a little as though Francis was just a wall. Nick smirked at the heat emanating from a certain spot on the man behind him. He wasn't arguing with what was going on, since no one was looking and he couldn't give a damn even if he wanted to at the moment, so he settled contentedly and watched the lovey-dovey pair keep talking. After all, it wasn't like they could make them go faster, so they might as well do _something_  while they were still trapped like animals in this stupid place. 

Francis was just about ready to lose control and pounce Nick in the very middle of the room. The nape of his neck suddenly looked edible, and he wanted nothing more than to latch on and leave a very obvious mark.

 

Wait, why was everyone clapping?

The toast was finally over.

 

Seizing Nick by the wrists, he started for the door. He nodded his chin towards the couple, who was now watching the scene with quirked eyebrows, the conman squirming and cursing in the grip he had no chance of escaping.

 

“Nick drank too much.” He explained to the young people with a snort. “Gotta get him out before he declares war on the draperies.”

 

He barely heard the goodbyes called after them as they stepped out of the door. He released the conman in order to close the door, leaving them alone in the empty hall.

"Oh thanks. 'Declare war on the draperies'?" Nick growled, scowling at the biker incredulously and shaking his head. "Honestly, let _me_  come up with the excuses, huh?" 

 

He sighed, letting it go for the moment and turning to face Francis, eyes flashing hotly. "So, this is a little too public for my taste. How many blocks away from your place are we?"

 

“It’s about a ten minute drive.” Francis muttered, looking out the nearby window, a devilish glint in his eye flashing for just a moment. “I brought my bike, hope you don’t mind.”

 

He smirked, remembering the last time he took Nick for a drive on his bike. The way the younger man had clung to him like a baby koala with his arms and legs alike, clutching him until he white-knuckled and burying his face in the bigger man’s back. It had been so goddamn cute at the time.

The gambler groaned in frustration, grimacing. "Of course..." he grumbled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I'll just meet you there, okay? You can survive the trip by yourself."

 

“Oh, no you don’t.” Francis grinned as they made their way to the elevator. “You’re coming with me. I _will_ pick you up if I have to.”

 

As soon as the elevator doors slid shut, the breath was knocked out of Nick’s chest when he was slammed backwards into the doors. Francis’ thumb came to rest on the door close button, ridding anyone on any floor from twenty to one of the ability to call the elevator, effectively trapping the two of them inside.

 

Looming over him, one hand free, Francis grabbed the back of Nick’s head and pulled him into a rather demanding kiss, forcing a knee between the younger’s legs just to feel him squirm.

Though he was too startled to react for a couple seconds, once the aching flash of heat died down a little Nick pushed back to give himself at least an inch or so of freedom, one hand shoving at Francis' forehead. "Like hell I am!" he hissed, glaring in both anger and lust. "I've got my own means of transportation, dumbass. You can wait!"

 

“I refuse to wait.” Francis said, thrusting his knee forward and grinding his pelvis into Nick’s groin, effectively silencing him and parting his lips with a gasp. He dove in for another forceful kiss, their tongues twisting as the battle for oral dominance began.

 

A few dings signaled that they were about halfway down in their descent, but Francis was just about willing to keep his thumb on that button and fuck Nick in that very elevator.

 

The gambler growled in protest, but couldn't even begin to pry Francis off at that point. He was getting to the point where it was hard to think of anything besides wanting that mouth to make its way over all the rest of his body, and elevator be damned, but there was still some level of annoyance present that the biker was just pinning him to have fun willy nilly like that. 

 

Their tongues continued to struggle against one another as the elevator continued to ding, but neither was looking at the little screen telling them what floor they were at. For all they cared, it could short out and stick them in the basement for a while, as long as it didn't open up.

 

The elevator shuddered to a stop with one final ding, signaling to the couple that they’d reached their destination. However, Francis wasn’t quite done yet, pushing his hips forward again with Nick’s chin trapped in his free hand. The younger man tasted strongly of alcohol, which just wanted to make the biker probe deeper, taste longer.

 Nick's grip on the biker's shoulder tightened instinctively, trying in vain to tug his head free. His hips pushed back stubbornly and he continued to struggle, though not really with the intention of ditching. It was more of a power issue, disagreeing with getting shoved against a wall and screwed with, even if he did _really_  enjoy it to some extent. 

 

He was vaguely aware of the slight shift in weight that meant the elevator was no longer moving, but was it something to care about...? Eh, probably not; not yet anyway.

 

The burning in his lungs finally outweighing his need, Francis broke the fiery kiss, his elbow coming to rest on the closed elevator doors beside Nick’s head. Their foreheads met and their eyes made contact, burning with enough heat to fry the ozone layer entirely.

 

“We’re at the lobby.” Francis muttered. “Stupid short elevator ride.”

"Oh darn, you mean this isn't the Empire State Building?" Nick replied sarcastically, pausing to catch his breath. He met the biker's gaze for a minute, then he chuckled to himself and finally shoved his way free, hitting the open doors button to let them both out of the elevator. "There'll be plenty of time soon, just relax. It's not that far." He smirked over his shoulder as he stepped into the lobby, already appearing calm and collected again.

 

Francis almost hated the way he could do that.

Almost.

He watched as he smoothed his hand over his palm, the other tucking itself into his pocket. He wanted to grab him and drag him right back into the elevator, but managed to contain himself as he too started to walk across the lobby.

 

“I meant what I said about my bike.” He grumbled as he sidled up to the man. “I’ll bring you back tomorrow to get your car, it’ll be okay staying the night here. Besides, ain’t like you’re going home tonight.”

The gambler groaned, grimacing up at Francis. "What the hell for? It's not like it'll make that big a difference anyway." he questioned stubbornly, but the only answer he got was a vice-like grip on his arm dragging him across the parking lot towards the goddamn motorcycle. 

 

It wasn't that he was afraid of them or anything, but bikes were just...not his thing. Too much noise and wind, it was a pain. But arguing his way out of something that Francis was so dead-set on was like talking to a brick wall, so he was forced to deal with it, grumbling and complaining whenever possible. At least it wasn't a long trip, and the payout would be worth it. 

 

As they grew closer to their destination, Nick grew quieter, thinking to himself and not paying a whole lot of attention. He simply shook his head when asked if something was wrong, and took on an unreadable expression as they made their way into the apartment building where Francis lived, which only served to annoy the biker endlessly. Neither one said much, but the tension was mounting with every passing second and every footstep closer to the door. 

 

"So..." Nick finally spoke up, stepping past Francis into the apartment and smirking at the impatience stamped across the biker's face. "You actually made it...well, close enough anyway. But that was some real self-control, I'm impressed."

He stepped up to the biker and suddenly pressed a hand between Francis' legs, leaning in to nip at the biker's neck. That look of surprise was golden, making him chuckle under his breath as he continued to assault Francis' throat.

 

The older man nearly fell backwards against the door as he struggled to close it behind him, shocked beyond words that the younger man had taken an initiative. He didn’t mind it, the way Nick’s fingers curled hungrily around his groin made him feel a bit weak in the knees. But it was startling.

 

Nick never was one for arguing when Francis instigated their little games, and always seemed rather eager to play. But the fact that the gambler was kicking off the night was noteworthy, to say the least.

 

When finally his clumsy hand made the door click behind him, Francis pushed back against the younger man’s body. Taking hold of the underside of his thighs, he suddenly lifted the gambler up off the ground, receiving the desired effect of the younger’s legs curling around his waist. He sat him on the back of the nearby couch, bringing their faces to the same level as he took over the ministrations. Sinking his teeth into Nick’s shoulder, he began to frantically pull apart the buttons of his dark green shirt.

 

One hand still continuing its fun, the gambler's free hand took hold of Francis' shoulder to help keep his balance, purring appreciatively at the attention his shoulder was getting. He couldn't say he was surprised by how quickly the biker had turned things back around, but he still relished that moment of shock. It was a nice start to the game, and it had certainly gotten Francis moving pretty damn quick. 

 

 

Francis wanted to tear the buttons open, but considering the verbal whipping he’d received the last time he did that, he decided it best to fumble with the stupid things instead.

 

“I hate buttons.”

 

Running his hands up Nick’s bare chest when finally the cloth was open, he continued to sink teasing bites up the gambler’s shoulder and throat. The pads of his thumbs came to rest over the younger man’s nipples, where he began to circle them in unison, trying to drive a more obvious reaction out of him.

 

"Well there's a surprise." the gambler chuckled, gasping a little when Francis' teeth dug particularly deep and tightening his grip on the biker's groin in retaliation. A growl of approval rumbled from his throat and he tensed for a moment, his eyes glancing down to Francis' hands and watching them work.

 

The biker rolled his hips forward into the hand pressing at his groin, his jeans already feeling a little too cramped. A particularly hot throb shot through his stomach and collected in the tightness between his legs, forcing a deep, rumbling groan out of his throat.

 

One of his hands moved back to support Nick’s lower back as he began to sway on the edge of the couch’s back, effectively pulling their hips together. Nick gave up on trying to move his hand in the cramped space and instead brought it up to curl about the much larger man’s neck. He drowned under the sensation of their hips grinding roughly together, both of them brought to full hardness within the confines of their trousers, as they thrust together as if already in the middle of the act.

 

Francis’ beard tickled and scratched as his kisses and nips moved up to the younger man’s ear. Trailing his tongue hotly up the crease where the shell of Nick’s ear met his neck, he nibbled his way back down the outer curve. The hand that wasn’t curled beneath the conman’s slender back had curled cross-wise over his back to clutch at his opposite shoulder, making escape impossible – even if the smaller man wanted it.

 

Green eyes flashed and slid shut for a moment as the biker continued to work at his ear, growling in pleasure and digging his fingers into the back of Francis’ neck. The gambler’s legs tensed and relaxed as though urging things to progress, and he shuddered at an especially strong buck, opening his eyes again and staring at the biker. If he could have moved, he would’ve tried to pull back a little to get a bite of his own, but Francis’ grip proved too strong and he simply squirmed and grumbled quietly in protest.

That was the one thing that always made him fight back: not being able to move or do much of anything against the ten tons of muscle locking him in whatever position the biker pleased.

 

Sensing that the conman was growing impatient, the biker pulled back with a sneer on his face.

“So. Where do you propose we do this? If this goes much farther, we won’t get away from the back of this couch.” He said, moving his hands so they were cupping the smaller man’s hips, relishing in the fact that the lust-soaked body beneath him had to cling to him to keep from falling backwards. “I picked last time. Even though last time was way too long ago.”

 

Nick paused for a moment, looking around the room thoughtfully despite the glaze of lust covering his eyes. “Hm, that’s true…” he trailed off and frowned. The fire writhing beneath his skin wasn’t making him very inclined to anyplace in particular, but he was in agreement that perching on the back of the couch wasn’t the easiest to work with.

 

“Mmh, well we could always just slip down to the right side of the couch here.” He suggested, nodding over his shoulder and then stealing a nip at Francis’ ear.

 

Lifting him into his arms again, Francis slipped around the side of the couch before lowering the smaller male onto the plush cushions below.

 

Never one for being accused of taking his time, Francis fumbled for a few seconds with the button on the front of the younger man’s trousers, quickly pulling them down off his legs – along with his deliciously tight black briefs – and rendering him totally nude.

Whenever they got like this, Nick was always the one showing the most skin. The only time Francis ever got totally naked during sex was in the shower, and although they did that quite frequently, Nick was always just slightly annoyed by the fact that he was the most exposed all the time.

 

However, he had no time to argue when Francis dipped his head down and silenced all possible protests from the younger man with a heavy lick to the head of his leaking cock.

 

_“Shit…”_ the gambler hissed, his head rolling back against the couch and his back arching instinctively. He’d never been one to be submissive. Ever. Not even close. But it was always so hard to argue with a massive muscled biker who knew just how to touch and tease to render him incapable of speech or the ability to hold himself up. It was both infuriating and…goddamn hot, that he could never bring himself to care all that much.

 

Responding with a smirk when the gambler’s hips rolled up off the couch, Francis pushed his pelvis back down against the cushion and held him there as he proceeded to sink the first few inches of the younger man’s cock past his lips.

 

He usually didn’t give out blows, but he knew how much Nick loved it. And he could afford to indulge his lover every now and then.

 

He pressed his tongue to the underside of the conman’s cockhead when it drew closer to the inside of his lips, allowing his teeth to graze the length just enough to get the trapped hips jolting beneath his hands.

 

Groaning in desire, only the faintest hint of annoyance made itself known in the gambler’s voice at being held down. One leg raised and pushed its knee against the biker’s hip as his hands clawed at the couch beneath him, gritting his teeth and struggling in vain against Francis’ grip, instinctively aching to get free despite the twisted pleasure that came with being held still by the biker.

 

Francis swirled his tongue around the younger man’s tip before sinking his head southward again, nearly gagging when Nick took advantage of his lack of attention towards his hips. The shaft was roughly forced deep into his mouth, the head slamming into the back of his throat. He coughed, but tried to keep his composure as he dug his fingernails into the younger man’s hip. A warning.

 

Pulling back and watching as the excess saliva slid down the glistening shaft, he pursed his lips and blew outwards. The spittle instantly began to cool to a vast degree, bringing an icy grip to the entire organ.

 

Nick flinched violently, cursing and raising his head sharply to make eye contact. For a second it seemed as though he was going to speak, but he simply sighed shakily and kneed Francis’ hip harder than before, his other leg stretching out on the armrest.

 

“Bastard.” He breathed as he lay his head back down, not really angry in the least. For a moment at least, he had some of his usual collected attitude back, though if he knew anything it wouldn’t be allowed to last. But it always annoyed Francis, so he let it shine anyway.

 

Francis smirked, closing his fist around the length and giving it a few harsh pumps in order to heat the saliva again. Once he had the younger man bucking upwards into his hand, he pulled off and jerked on his hips. The conman’s bare ass rubbed on the biker’s denim-clad thighs as he was jerked closer, and he suddenly doubled over so his arms were next to the gambler’s head.

 

In this position, Nick’s legs were shove rather roughly upwards, bending him almost over in half as Francis moved in for a crushing kiss. In this position as well, Nick could feel the hot bulge between the biker’s legs pressing directly between his ass cheeks, as if threatening penetration right through the cloth of his jeans.

 

The gambler growled into Francis’ mouth, one hand immediately leaping off the couch and digging its fingers into the back of the biker’s head to keep him from pulling back too soon. His hips jumped of their own accord at having that heat only separated from him by a layer of denim, urging his tongue to press harder against Francis’ in the growing lust. His free hand moved more slowly, sliding up along the biker’s side until it reached his shoulder, where it then slipped underneath Francis’ vest and started to slide it off. After all, he didn’t get to keep _all_ his clothes on.

 

Francis released his hold on his lover’s body in order to shrug the vest from his shoulders, without breaking the kiss, his tongue wrestling fervently with the younger man’s. He ground his hips forward, pressing the bulge in his pants a little stronger between his lover’s ass cheeks, directly into the little bud that he knew was already pulsing.

 

He broke the kiss finally when he grew frustrated of finagling with the vest around his elbows, sitting up to throw it aside. From his position he then proceeded to peel off his plain grey wife beater – so tight it should have been illegal. It revealed the multitude of tattoos on his torso that Nick had grown to memorize, his fingers reaching up to trace a vine on the biker’s hip.

 

With a hum, Francis bucked his hips forward again with a healthy tense from his thighs, watching as the gambler’s head shot back with a weak gasp.

 

_“Ffffuck…”_ Nick groaned, his eyes clamped shut and the hand that had been absently fingering the tattoos on the biker’s hip suddenly digging its nails into the flesh instead. His chest rose and fell raggedly as stars swam in front of his eyes from the thrust, recovering after a few seconds and cursing under his breath, looking up in mixed approval and shaky desire. The hand that wasn’t still digging into the biker’s hip let its fingertips slide across Francis’ thigh, his eyes still drifting over the exposed torso looming over him hungrily.

 

“Hn.” The biker snorted, running his tongue along his lower lip. “You look like you really want it.”

 

He ran both his hands up the conman’s thighs, hooking both of his thumbs beneath his cock, the base wrapped suddenly in the soft webbing between Francis’ thumb and forefinger of both hands. Pushing onward farther, the biker forced Nick’s cock against his stomach as his hands trailed upwards. As soon as they pushed off the tip, the shaft sprang directly back upwards, straining and leaking greedily. His palms smoothed over the man’s stomach and chest as they continued back upwards, watching as he jerked and trembled under his touch before making the journey back down his sides, palms open and fingers searching.

 

Head pressed back against the cushions, there were a few seconds of panting before words appeared to answer the biker’s taunt. “What…gave it away…?” Nick breathed, sarcasm still present under the growl of lust in his voice. He lifted his head briefly to make eye contact that would have evaporated ice in an instant, then groaned in approval and let himself collapse again, his nails digging harder into Francis’ hip. His hips bucked roughly and his body arched, aching for those goddamn jeans to get the hell out of the way and not giving a shit about hiding it.

 

Thankful that the two of them kept lube all over the house – after all, they never knew where they’d end up fucking, and there was nothing that could kill a mood quite like going on a lube search – Francis leaned over towards the table at the end of the couch, preparing to retrieve the lube from inside the drawer.

 

However, when he heard another loud groan from Nick, he got a better idea. Taking hold of his hips, with a hoist, he suddenly flipped the man over onto his hands and knees.

Before Nick could ask what he was doing, lips opened and jaw relaxed, and a tongue was pressed against the hot, pulsing bud that had been aching for the biker’s cock for the past twenty minutes.

 

The gambler jolted and gasped raggedly in shock, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. For a second he thought that his arms would give out on him with the strength of the shudder that shot up his entire body, but they kept him up and his hands grabbed at the couch beneath him desperately, struggling to catch his breath. He hung his head for a moment, panting and groaning in desire as his body tensed and pushed back against the biker in demand for more.

Opening his lips a little wider, Francis’ hands came up to cup both of the gambler’s ass cheeks, spreading them so he had more room. The pucker was already loosening and throbbing, reacting beautifully to the muscle trying to worm its way inside. The scratch of Francis’ beard against his perineum had stars exploding behind Nick’s eyelids.

 

Still pressing his tongue against the ring of muscle, flicking and tracing circles that made the younger man whine, Francis raised his hand in order to press one finger past the slicked muscle, thrusting into the confines of the gambler’s tight ass.

Francis was no small man, by any respect. And that included his fingers. Three of his fingers were about the size of an average man’s erect penis, and one was more than enough for a healthy stretch. The fingernail of his index finger grazed Nick’s prostate, pulling another keening moan out of him.

 

His fingers scraping against the cushions to an almost painful level, the gambler’s back arched and his legs trembled, a gasping groan escaping his throat as he panted heavily. The painful ecstasy had his head swimming and his vision spinning, aching to be fucked senseless and straining for still more. He shivered under the biker’s touch, gasping a couple curses before devolving back into a hungry moan, nearly losing it with every flick of Francis’ tongue.

 

“Ohh fuck… ohhhh _fuck fuck fuck_.”

 

Francis’ smirk widened when he listened to the man whimpering beneath him. He pulled his tongue back for a moment just to hear the whine of disapproval before replacing it. He managed to slide his tongue inside beside his finger, wiggling the tip of the digit against the man’s prostate as his tongue managed to worm its way in a little deeper.

 

_“Aahhhh…_ Fucking hell…” the gambler groaned shakily, another spike of heat shooting through him as his head rolled back. His hips jolted of their own accord, pulling away from Francis before jumping back to press against him, accompanied by an aching moan that was dangerously close to begging in tone. A sure sign that it had been _way_ too long since the last go round.

 

Removing his tongue and his finger, he watched as the man whipped his head to the side to give him a pleading look.

 

“Hmm… you want it _real_ bad.” Francis sneered, licking his lip. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this _hungry_ before.”

 

He pressed his thumb against the conman’s wet, pulsing hole, dipping it forward so just the tip pushed inside before removing it again to trace circles around the muscle. With his other hand, he pulled apart the buckle of his belt, the jangling noise like music to Nick’s ears as he finally heard what was coming. The grating of the zipper followed just moments later, and then finally, _finally_ , Nick felt the heated tip of Francis’ cock press against his hole.

 

He took in a breath of anticipation, waiting for the stretch and fullness that would accompany the thickness of Francis’ cock pressing inside him.

However, when he felt neither, he let out a whine. Francis smirked when those hips pressed back against him.

 

“If you want it to bad, ask me nicely.” He smirked. When Nick was like this, he could milk a good deal out of him. He might regret it later when the younger decided on his retaliation, but for now, he needed to hear those lust-drenched words begging him to fuck the pretty ass on display for him.

 

A few choice swear words were the first response, those green eyes flashing back at the biker angrily. “Are you asking for _manners?_ You don’t even know what asking nicely is.” Nick snarled, breathing heavily and glancing at the ready cock protruding from the biker’s jeans despite himself. “Don’t be stupid.”

 

“Well then, I guess you don’t want it as bad as I thought you did. If you can’t be polite, you can be patient.” With a smirk and a huff, the biker’s cockhead was no longer pressed against the younger man’s muscle. Leaning over again and fishing out the lube – doubting that the little amount of saliva on the younger’s hole would be enough – he leaned back.

 

He achieved the desired effect of Nick looking back curiously, only for his vision to be filled with the image of Francis sliding his hand slowly and tightly over his lube-drenched cock. His foreskin slid over his head and back again with every achingly slow pull of his tensed fingers. He licked his lips and let out a purposefully loud groan, sitting back on the heels of his feet, his jeans giving a groan as he continued to spread the lube across his throbbing cock for the conman to see.

 

“Ready to beg for it yet?” he sneered, observing the way Nick’s face lit up red.

 

The gambler growled in frustration, flipping over and sitting down on the couch facing Francis, glaring at him with one hand resting on his knee. “You think it’s that easy? I’m not a bitch for anybody else, so don’t expect me to be all set to cry and beg like one.” He answered coolly, eyes flashing.

 

He leaned back as though simply relaxing, watching the biker and waiting for the standoff to take its next turn.

 

Francis pushed down on the conman’s chest, flattening his body against the couch. He pressed himself between the younger’s legs, grinding the weeping head of his cock firmly against the muscle there with a hand around the base. The lube heated quickly against the conman’s hole, which opened up against his will, sucking desperately at the tip. Pushing forward ever so slightly, Francis forced half of the head inside the man before pulling out again, ridding him of the stretch that had just started to fill him with tight sensation.

 

“ _Beg_.” He hissed, repeating the action of pressing just under half an inch inside.

 

Groaning as his cock throbbed desperately, Nick met the biker’s glare defiantly nonetheless, one hand latching onto Francis’ wrist instinctively. _“Like hell.”_ He growled, breathing heavily and wincing against the biker’s teasing. Sure, he wanted it almost to an unbearable extent, but he still had enough of an ego to combat the sex drive and force more stubbornness.

 

His free hand coming up to take a strong hold of Nick’s cock, he dragged his hand along it slowly as he pressed more of the head of his own inside him before pulling back out again.

 

“If you don’t, I’ll just leave you like this.” Francis sneered. He wasn’t even sure if he was bluffing or not. If he didn’t get his way, there was a good chance he’d be so frustrated that he’d just storm off into the bathroom and jerk off, too annoyed to fuck. Granted, that wasn’t his first choice, but if Nick’s resolve didn’t break soon, that might be what would happen.

 

“That’d drive you nuts. It’s not the _same_.” The gambler hissed, his hand tightening on the biker’s wrist. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was willing to let it get that far or not, conflicted as to whether or not it would kill him to forego that last scrap of pride for the fucking. There were pros and cons for both, with a strong point being made by Francis’ hold on his dick, and his stubbornness eroded a little.

 

“Look, you already know I fucking _want_ it; you don’t need more…” he groaned temptingly.

 

Francis’ grin spread wider. “You _want_ it?” Francis purred, as if the conman would argue, “Then tell me how _badly_.”

Nick's eyes narrowed further and he simply glared for a moment, several thoughts almost visible as they bounced around his head. Finally he shook his head in annoyance and leaned in until his face was only a few inches from the biker's. "Okay, tough guy, you wanna know? _Bad_  enough to cut off your goddamn dick if the rest of you won't cooperate, so don't fuck with me right now!" He snarled dangerously.

 

A heavy shudder wracked Francis’ spine when the conman snarled at him. He could hardly remember the last time he’d gotten so spine-tinglingly _dominant_ during sex, as he often preferred to take the slightly submissive role. He never was much of a bitch, but he was more than willing to go down on his hands and knees if Francis told him to.

 

The look that was burning in the gambler’s green eyes left absolutely no room for argument – as if Francis could have come up with words anyway. His lips hung open for a few brief seconds of shock before he remembered how to breathe again.

 

“Uhh… ok, I get it.” He muttered, his face suddenly heating red as Nick laid back down on the couch. He barely registered the growled ‘good’ he got from the younger man in response as he refocused his attention back on his cock, completely forgetting the fact that he was trying to get the man to beg.

 

Ehh, he’d just have to try again some other time.

 

Setting one booted foot down on the floor, and digging the other into the space between the cushions for leverage, Francis did his best to once more gain the upper hand by pressing himself into the smaller man quite forcefully, causing his lover to bounce on the cushion.

 

The gambler growled appreciatively, letting his annoyance go for the most part and cracking one eye open to glance up at Francis for a moment. That was one thing that was always nice about the biker: he wasn't all that bright, and was easy to convince when hot under the collar. Sure, he was also enormous and took what he wanted pretty damn hard, but it was always fun to sleep with someone he could outsmart, especially when they were as stubborn as Francis. 

 

Francis’ head rolled back with a rumbling groan as the generous amount of lube helped him to slide all the way inside to the hilt. He loved the way Nick’s breath caught in his throat when the head of his rather impressively sized cock reached him so deeply.

 

With a curse, he released his stranglehold on Nick’s erection in order to take hold of his hips. Wasting no time, he went right to work – bouncing his smaller lover on the couch cushions with powerful thrusts.

 

Lightning shooting through his body with every push, the gambler gave a ragged groan and arched his back with a gasp, his coherency slipping a mile a minute. The wait had been worth it, even though it wasn't something he wanted to make a habit of, and getting pounded into the couch was making up for the stupid party _easily._

 

He cursed as a shudder shot down his spine, his eyes clamped shut and one hand grabbing onto Francis' wrist, digging in hard for a second and then releasing to fall back onto the couch. It was more instinctive than anything, as he knew full well he couldn't struggle against someone so damn huge.

 

Francis hummed something incoherently as he released Nick’s hips, leaning out over his body with a hand on either side of his head. He opened his eyes for a moment, his grey hues boring directly into Nick’s own green eyes when he opened them curiously. They were only open long enough to witness a wily smirk cross Francis’ lips before his pace suddenly increased.

 

The sound of their skins slapping together and the salt of their sex smacking generously, the passion of their voices grunting and trying not to be louder than the other, all filled the room and heated it to a vast extent. Francis was almost willing to strip naked to keep from overheating, but as that would require him to stop thrusting into the prone and shaking body beneath him, it was absolutely out of the question.

He nearly lost it when Nick’s hands shot up to his shoulders, nails digging red crescents into both of his Trapezius muscles. The look on the younger lover’s face made his head spin. Chin tilted upwards, thin lips parted, brows arching upwards, eyelashes locked over burning green irises.

 

Nick's nails dug harder into the biker's shoulders when he suddenly pulled himself up and buried his face in Francis' neck, panting shakily as he was wracked by a trembling fit that nearly made him collapse all over again. "Ohhh _fuck..._ F-Fr--nnh! _There!!"_  He gasped in shock when the biker hit that special spot at a particular angle, and sank his teeth into the place where Francis' neck met his shoulder almost frantically. After the initial panic he groaned weakly and treated the area with smaller nips and little licks, as though half apologetic for biting down so hard.

 

A spike of pleasurable heat shot through the biker’s body from the place where Nick’s teeth had driven dark marks into his flesh. He was pretty sure there would be a bruise there in a few hours – one that he would flaunt proudly with his vest collar tucked down, so the world (or at least, the people of New Orleans) could see that he was sexually active.

 

The way Nick would clench up tightly around him, suck his cock inside more forcefully, whenever he hit that little pleasure center made his vision swim. His eyes closed even more tightly as Nick’s body almost lifted entirely off the couch with his fitful squirmings. His legs rose up to wrap around the biker’s waist, heels digging into his lower back as if trying to encourage him to thrust faster.

 

“ _Fuck_.” Francis snarled, a bead of sweat sliding down his neck and dripping onto Nick’s chin, the pace of their rapid fucking began to make the wooden feet of the couch squeak against the linoleum floor as it jerked back and forth a few inches.

 

Twisting the ankle on the floor just a half inch inwards and regaining a good grip on the hard floor with the rubber sole of his boot, Francis angled his hips in a way that he knew would have the younger man writhing and keening beneath him.

The gambler gasped against Francis' neck, his breathing ragged and uneven, and he struggled to get a better grip on the biker's shoulders to keep himself from slipping back down. He didn't want to lose even the slightest bit of contact, even though it only made his body temperature spike even higher to an almost unbearable level. 

 

He yelped in shock at the slight angle change and tensed all around the biker as his vision spun violently and his lips parted in a shaky attempt to breathe properly. A strangled moan followed, and he leaned his face against the biker's neck in a daze, shuddering. Whatever he was doing right there...needed to be repeated. Harder. 

 

Jerking their bodies forward slightly, Francis moved the conman so his lower back was being supported by the arm of the couch. It was less of a strain on his back, since he seemed determined to keep himself upright at this point, and it kept him from lying back down and releasing the pleasant stranglehold he had on the older man, even if he wanted to.

 

Wrapping his arms tightly around the man’s waist, his strong biceps tensing around his slender waist, he re-braced his feet and started pounding upwards with renewed strength and a loud utterance that almost bordered on a roar.

 

Nick growled and roughly kissed the biker's throat in answer to the roar, shivering at the tensing of Francis' arms around his waist. The new strength of the biker's pounding sent him reeling in an instant, barely able to see, breathe, or do anything other than hang on to those shoulders; and he couldn't even _begin_  to control the exclamations and gasping moans being ripped out of him.

 

_"Fffuck_  that's good...!" he groaned desperately. "I'm...D- _dammit just don't...stop!!"_

 

Francis snorted at the ridiculousness of the statement. As if him stopping at this point was even within the realm of possibility. He rolled his head to the side to allow the fluttering kisses to pepper his throat and shoulder, his hips jolting just a little harder whenever teeth joined lips on his tender flesh.

 

“Hang on a second,” Francis muttered, numbness tingling at his lower back from being in the same position too long. He was never the sort to work himself or his lover to completion from start to finish in the same position, always switching it up once or twice during any particular sexcapade.

 

He pulled out of the younger man, smirking at the desperate wail of disapproval that wrenched out of the gambler’s throat, before grabbing him by the hips and flipping him over. The younger’s hands caught themselves on the arm of the couch as he was thrown over it, keeping his belly from pushing against it too roughly. His cock reacted instantly to the rough, worn fabric of the couch rubbing against its underside, and he rocked his hips backwards hungrily, waiting to be nailed into the arm rest. One of his feet moved down to the floor to brace himself for the liberal pounding he knew was coming.

 

Francis bent his left knee while his right foot braced once more against the floor, and rest the sole of his left boot against the couch cushion – thankful they had a cloth couch rather than leather – and leaned his left knee against the arm rest beside the younger man’s hand.

 

And with a little bit of guiding, Francis was slamming inside the slender body of his lover all over again, hands tight on hips and pulling him back into every thrust – doubling the sensation.

 

Gasping so sharply he nearly choked, Nick's head shot back and his eyes snapped open as the pain and the ecstasy clashed together, his arms nearly giving out on him already. 

 

_"Holy SHIT!!!"_

 

His last semblance of coherency slipping, a raw scream escaped the gambler's throat as he writhed in Francis' grip, his fingers digging into the couch frantically. He was almost never prone to shrieking like that during sex, ever. He'd get close, sure, but would never actually call out so loud or in such a tone of complete desire, it just...went against the way he did things. But after being away for so long, and with how strong Francis' appetite was...somehow, he'd just lost his cool.

 

Francis nearly shit himself when Nick called out so loudly. He paused in his thrusting, so completely thrown off and turned on all at once by the call that he forgot for a moment how to work his basic motor functions.

 

But a desperate plea of, “ _FRANCIS, god dammit!_ ” pulled him right back into the real world. Doubling over and taking hold of the arm rest, his fingers lacing with Nick’s as he pounded his hips forward, he let out another roar that matched Nick’s previous outcry in volume.

Too lost in the bliss again to really be annoyed by the biker's temporary lapse, the gambler's eyes snapped shut again and a shaky moan escaped him as still more heat gathered in a seething mass in his gut. He was vaguely aware of Francis' hand resting on his own, but wasn't sure how to feel about it, especially since he couldn't cobble together so much as a single second's worth of coherent thought to dwell on it. So he simply shifted his fingers a little to allow the biker's to slip in between them, hanging his head and prying his eyes open enough to glance dazedly at the entwined hands for a moment.

 

_"Dammit,_ I..." he gasped, his body tensing sharply for a second. _"S'getting...getting CLOSE..."_

 

“Ohhh _shit_ yeah,” the biker concurred, feeling a similar heat gathering in his own gut, ready to explode within his younger lover.

 

He wrapped his strong arms around the gambler’s thin waist, hoisting him upwards so his back was flush against the biker’s chest. He writhed as the thrusts lost a small margin of speed, but the new depth that they reached more than made up for it. He wouldn’t be surprised if the biker’s cock was pouncing all the way up into his stomach.

 

Opening his mouth on the gambler’s shoulder with several wet, suckling bites, a growl sounded in Francis’ throat that didn’t seem to go away. One of his arms left the conman’s waist to wrap his hand fully around the neglected erection bouncing at the apex of his lover’s thighs, squeezing it tightly and moving in unison with his hips. 

 

Groaning through gritted teeth, Nick's head rolled back against the biker's shoulder and a shudder wracked his frame, the tension inside starting to build faster with the added attention. His hands twitched as though wanting to grab Francis' wrists, but as they still had at least a little bit to do with holding him up, he didn't dare let them move. He may have been losing it, but he was _not_ about to face plant into the couch because of the biker's actions. No way he'd ever hear the end of it if that happened. 

 

“ _HnnnnnnnNNNNICK!_ ” the biker snarled, his eyes closed so tightly that they almost began to hurt as he propelled his hips forward, their sexes slapping together with each powerful drive of his pelvis.

 

The arm around Nick’s waist tightened farther as Francis’ climax drew nearer, his breath coming out in hot puffs across the gambler’s shoulder. He sped up the ministrations of his hand, two shakes of his fist for every one thrust of his hips, his every intention to drive the smaller, writhing man to absolute blissful agony.

Weak moans broken by shaky gasps were pulled with every tug of the biker's hand out of Nick's body, shivering as the tension snowballed faster and faster and faster... It was only a matter of seconds now, his body arching into Francis' larger form as though trying to meld into him, and his eyes flitted open for an instant in a frantic glance sidelong at the biker's expression. And what he saw, combined with that one last shout, did him in instantly. 

 

_"AHH! FFFFUCK!!! FUCK!!!!"_ He shrieked in ecstatic agony, hips jolting as release pounded out of him, his eyes clamped shut and hands clawing at the couch.

 

Rutting right through the gambler’s orgasm, Francis rode it out of him with the same vigorous pounding he’d been giving him all along. He wondered briefly if the semen jutting out of the younger lover’s cock would stain the couch, but the thought was quickly eradicated when the pulsing in his pelvis reminded him of a more pressing matter.

 

The conman’s keening wails, not to mention the way his insides pulsed around the biker’s cock with the vice-like grip of a writhing snake, managed to pull him over the edge right along with Nick.

 

Burying his teeth in the younger’s shoulder – as he was quite prone to do during orgasm – Francis’ loud grunting was muffled by the mouthful of flesh captured between his lips. Everything below the waist seemed to melt as his orgasm flushed through his system, leaving him awash in tingling bliss as he rode out his own orgasm into the smaller, shuddering male.

 

Eventually their hips grew still and they remained as they were for a minute, shaking and trying to catch their breath as the heat slowly subsided. Francis' hold on his waist had loosened, so Nick wriggled free and collapsed onto his side, sighing and staring at the opposite wall absently. After a moment he glanced up at the biker and one eyebrow arched upwards, silently asking if he was just going to keep crouching there like that.

 

Francis had an interesting little quirk. As huge of a guy that he was, and as tough as he seemed, he always _always_ cuddles after sex. Even when Nick didn’t want to.

 

He laid down beside the smaller man, curling his much larger form around the younger man’s, arms fitting perfectly around his waist, knees curling behind Nick’s, lips finding the shell of his ear with a little kiss.

 

“Hmm… I think that was well worth the wait.” Francis muttered, smiling a little as his younger lover squirmed a little to get more comfortable in the biker’s arms.

 

Glancing back over his shoulder at the biker, Nick chuckled softly and grimaced. "Mmh, though that party...that was a little much." he pointed out, rolling his eyes at the thought of the happy Ellis and Zoey going all googly-eyed at each other. Taking trips and whatnot wasn't _so_  bad, but when in close proximity to Francis without being able to do anything like earlier that night...that had been something he wasn't too fond of repeating.

 

“I don’t know, _I_ enjoyed it.” Francis sneered, remembering how he’d brushed up against Nick throughout the whole party, watching his blush deepen with every pass of his hand over the gambler’s backside. “Even though I hate parties.”

The biker received a sarcastic scowl tossed back at him. "Yeah, I noticed. But you were damn quick to get outta there, soon as the kids were done professing their love for each other and shit." he remarked as he nestled into a slightly more comfortable position. 

 

“Can you blame me?” Francis’ chuckle was slow and deep, and he ran the hand that wasn’t trapped beneath Nick’s waist down his bare side, coming to a rest on his hip with a gentle squeeze. “I had all of _this_ waiting for me.”

The gambler smirked, shaking his head a little. "Guess not." A slight teasing note entered his voice, reaching up with one hand to scritch at the biker's chin. "Especially since you suck pretty hard at being patient." 

 

“I hate being patient.” Francis’ arm recoiled around the younger man’s waist as he pulled him tighter against his chest, pressing a hot kiss to the little tender spot behind Nick’s ear. One of his legs pressed upwards to emphasize his point, the denim of the jeans he was still wearing grinding between Nick’s legs, against the raw, sensitive flesh there.

Wincing, Nick hissed in pained protest, trying to wriggle free and glaring over his shoulder at the biker. "Oh, big shocker there." he grumbled sarcastically. It was at the stage where he couldn't quite tell if Francis was just trying to mess with him a little, or if he was actually going somewhere with the conversation, and he watched the biker's expression carefully to make up his mind.

 

Francis smirked and captured Nick’s lips in a kiss with the angle afforded to him, his free hand reaching up to capture his jaw with his fingers. “’Sides, I don’t _have_ to be patient. Not with such an eager lover. Well… most of the time.” He chuckled when Nick’s cheeks lit up a bit.

"Well it's hard to say no when you're fucking _holding me down._ " the gambler remarked snidely, shifting onto his back so he didn't have to crane his neck as far. "But I guess it's not the end of the world. You're not so bad when you're getting your fill... And I _guess_ afterwards, too."

 

“Gee, thanks.” Francis chided playfully, dragging his lover’s small form until he was lying on top of him, chest to chest. “I was under the impression that you _enjoyed_ it.”

 

He filled his palms with handfuls of the gambler’s soft rear, kneading his fingers into the pale flesh with a smirk as he lifted one knee between his legs. 

"I never said I didn't." Nick smirked, tilting his head slightly to one side and raising an eyebrow teasingly. "You just have a tendency to jump me, that's all."

 

Now he was starting to see where this talk was heading, but he didn't say anything about it just yet, waiting to see what the biker's next advance would be first.

 

“I can’t help it. You’re so goddamn delicious.” Francis growled. Hoisting the man farther up on his chest by the handfuls of his ass, he pulled him into range so that his teeth and tongue could attack the column of his neck with teasing nibbles. "So you better get it up again soon, cause I won't take your 'I'm too spent' crap tonight."

 

The gambler chuckled darkly, twisting his head around to give the biker more room to work with for a minute before suddenly pushing himself up off Francis' chest. He sat there and smirked down at the biker for a moment, drinking in the torso before him and slowly letting his eyes drift up to pierce Francis' confused gaze, his green eyes flashing in almost sadistic amusement. 

 

"Well, if you insist..." He leaned back down and stole a quick kiss of his own, sitting back up with his twisted smile widening. _"Let's see how many rounds you've got in you, hotshot."_

 


End file.
